For whatever reason the rain falls
with only half its heart tonight, moreso
along my skin, however the thought
was too much
& not enough. So thoroughly I fell
into love, an obsessional
concerning gold, golden, & gold-filled darknesses,
concerning how darkness makes a puzzle
out of you. Moreover, if I could
swallow the night
as the night swallows me.
rusted metal sunshine
Maybe you noticed when you started school. On the playground there were primary colors. There was the smell of juice dribble on pavement with ants, rusted metal sunshine, dust on rubber like kickball if you don’t want to play just sit in the dugout or maybe, maybe you had to play for gosh knows why. There were all the other children and you were there too. Well, I mean, it was more like you were near there. Or beside there. Definitely you were near beside there. Definitely you were not with the other children. Always not with. Indefinitely. It was lonely and made you tired and that’s just the way it was and is forever and ever amen.
reading in bed (or, delirium)
on discipline and nuance, I’m lost. the truth is, I was only thinking of you. tangible
you in my teeth.
as I was reading, over and over, page eighty-seven of some Murakami novel my thoughts kept turning to show and tell and you.
sweat and skin and repetition. head shoulders
knees and toes, the birds and the bees, my ankles in the air, eager you between my
thighs. page eighty-seven and something about Greece, the landscape, the waves
breaking on cliffs. the ways
you break me when I say please.
and it seemed like you appeared from my thoughts, with your cheek resting on my
forehead you said, “sweetheart, you have a fever.” and you took the book from
my hands and you kissed
the tip of my nose.
and that’s when I must have fallen asleep, but the truth is, I only dreamed of you.
you move and you move me second hand or minute hand and hour hand; you move me we could be paints
oilssuns shadows at the brim they spill they mix they never touch we spread across a canvasclock the ingredients of us
skin stretch mechanical
movements; and the moments that tick away in between they collide they intertwine they never touch we spread across you move and i move you move and
dream of me, gentle heart
dream of me, gentle heart
gentle man wild soul burst to flames
press your flavor into me
give me you, undone, gentle heart
set yours to mine
stoke your fire between my lips
and melting man
drip from my skin
the devil dreams
The devil dreams in brilliant colors. She dreams of painting the universe in shades of lavender and planting peonies across space that bloom into moons. She dreams of finding love with a like-minded angel. And although she feels no shame for her fall, she dreams of a kinder, wiser god. But when she wakes up it is to the reality of a fallen morning star; thoroughly desolate and gray.
Despite the rumors, the devil has no influence over humanity or their souls. She is powerless and reigns over no domain. Simply put she has been banished to nowhere and is to stay there for as long as one forever. She could easily withstand at least a few forevers. But the gossip and rumors that god has incited, for thousands of years now, really hurt. The devil knows how humans disdain her, even so, she finds the species adorable. Sadness spreads throughout the feathers of her tattered wings when she thinks of them.
And so on the edge of existence and at the corner of nowhere, she waxes and wanes. She muses and dreams. But sometimes she has nightmares. Unbearable nightmares that are made of sapphire flames and hate. The kind of nightmares that grab the devil by the jaw and breathe doom into her stomach and dread into her heart. Nightmares that depict the eternally sprawling terror of hell with the devil herself at its helm.
Whenever she wakes from such nightmares, fear tugs at her eyes and droplets fall in hues unknown to humankind.
call me a
one-trick pony, a two-trick tramp, or a
three-trick delirious bitch; call me a
wind me up and bend me over, pose
me perfect and crave me madly
pierce my porcelain
skin and paint me red; call me an
off-kilter hit or miss, a stand-in to
call me crazy and call me yours
the heel of my boot
a melody screamed apologies when it saw the ivory split;
pretty keys crack like teeth
and I could hear your bones slithering, sneak, such
feeble fingers gorgeous, break
blood-muddled mosh pit by the heel of my boot